


it's a love story (baby just say yes)

by trace_de_pas



Category: You Could Make a Life Series - Taylor Fitzpatrick
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 23:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trace_de_pas/pseuds/trace_de_pas
Summary: Victor has grown up surrounded by hockey players and hockey culture, and he knows there are a lot of unwritten rules, especially if you’re gay. You don’t let your eyes linger in the locker room, you don’t pick up when you’re out with the team, you don’t brag about the smoking hot guy you banged last night, you don’t catch feelings for your teammates. He’s spent his entire life playing hockey and being gay, he’s had practice.So he doesn’t know why he gets caught up on Jonas fucking Holm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> believe it or not, I started this after the very first chapter of FTNS was posted and my wonderful friend Ana texted me
> 
> ana: I'm shipping victor and the dane  
> me: OH MY GOD  
> me: Victor can't help but wonder if he's _always_ quiet
> 
> and so this fic was born. unending thanks to Emma for betaing, this would be a much worse story if it wasn't for her.
> 
> the amazing podcast for this fic can be found[ here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ycmal_mini_bang/works/11107140) and was recorded by the lovely yourenotserious

Look, Victor doesn’t spend a lot of his time thinking about guys jerking off.

Well, he doesn’t think about it unless, you know, he’s the one doing it.

What he’s trying to say is that he’s grown up surrounded by hockey players and hockey culture, and he knows there are a lot of unwritten rules, especially if you’re gay. You don’t let your eyes linger in the locker room, you don’t pick up when you’re out with the team, you don’t brag about the smoking hot guy you banged last night, you don’t catch feelings for your teammates. He’s spent his entire life playing hockey and being gay, he’s had practice.

So he doesn’t know why he gets caught up on Jonas fucking Holm.

It’s Fitzy who starts it, because of course it’s Fitzy who starts it. With this team, it’s almost always Fitzy who starts it. They’re at some bar in Cleveland after a win, loose with a few beers and two points, the first real roadie of the season. Somehow the conversation had turned to Juniors roommates and Fitzy was going off.

“He left his dirty clothes everywhere. I don’t even know how he had that many dirty clothes, we’d only be in the room overnight. And that’s not even the worst part.”

“What was the worst part?” Connie asks, sweet summer child that he is.

“Total shower hog, he took _forever_.”

“That’s not too bad,” Connie says.

Oh Connie.

“Oh Connie,” Fitzy says, smirking. “He spent the whole time jerking off. Loudly. I probably heard him come more times than his girlfriend.”

Connie, predictably, goes bright red, and everyone laughs. 

Victor’s been lucky, his roommates being mostly decent through Juniors and Minors. And then when he’d made it up last season, he’d hit the jackpot with Connie. That’s why he’d been worried about the Holm thing, but a few away games into the season things seems alright. He’s quiet and tidy, and Victor doesn’t ask for much more.

He’s always tried his best to be courteous when taking care of business while having a roommate, and Fitzy’s story makes him intensely grateful that his roommates so far have done the same. But it makes him wonder if they’ve ever jerked off in the shower while he was in the room. Connie would probably be too embarrassed, considering he goes bright red whenever the topic of sex is brought up. He hasn’t heard any telling noises that indicate that Holm is doing anything in the shower other than getting clean.

Well, Holm is so quiet all the time, maybe he is jerking off and Victor just doesn’t hear him.

He looks at Holm, who’s finishing off the last dregs of his pint, head tipped back. Victor follows the line of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Victor’s eyes are drawn back up when he wipes a hand across the back of his mouth, tongue darting out over his lips. 

Someone slams their bottle down onto the table and Victor starts, realizing that he’d been staring. 

Fuck. 

 

It’d be cool if he could leave it at that. Victor’s gay, he’s surrounded by men whose job it is to be in peak physical condition. Who hasn’t had gay thoughts? He usually catches himself, remembers what a monumentally stupid idea it is, and moves on. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Except he can’t stop thinking about Jonas fucking Holm.

“Do you mind if I leave the light on?” Holm asks, gesturing to his book. 

Victor is already in bed, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” Holm says, shooting him a grin. 

Holm is occupied with his book, so Victor lets himself look, quick glances out of the corner of his eye. Holm has a little furrow between his brows as his eyes scan the page. His hair is curling around his ears, still damp from the shower. Holm usually lets Victor take first shower. He wonders if maybe it’s because he prefers to take his time, keeping quiet as he-

Victor shakes his head, focusing back onto his phone. He needs to get laid.

 

Look, Victor doesn’t spend his day sitting around wondering what Holm sounds like when he’s jerking off. First of all, he’s a professional athlete, he doesn’t spend much time sitting around in general. Second, he’s not a perv. It’s more like, a recurring thought. That recurs at the worst possible moment.

Like when Holm comes out of the bathroom shirtless. 

Victor’s life really isn’t fair. He’s careful to keep his eyes glued to the TV as Holm roots around his suitcase. 

“Fuck,” Holm says, under his breath as he digs through the clothes.

“What’s up?” Victor asks, like any good roommate.

“I forgot to pack a sleep shirt.”

“Just sleep shirtless,” Victor’s traitor mouth says. He can feel his face heat up, but he’s determined to keep cool. 

“I, uh, get kind of cold.” he says. Victor narrows his eyes, and oh my god, are his ears pink? 

“Dude,” Victor crows. “Aren’t you from like, the arctic?”

Holm throws a pillow at him. “We have central heating. And Denmark isn’t the arctic, Kjeldsen.”

Victor wrinkles his nose at the overly Danish pronunciation. “Fine, you can borrow a shirt.”

“Will it fit?” Holm asks with a smirk, rubbing in the fact that he has twenty pounds and two inches on Victor. Asshole.

“Fuck you, I hope your nips freeze off.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Holm says laughing. “I’d appreciate it if I could borrow a shirt.”

Victor grumbles, but he still grabs an extra shirt from his bag and tosses it to Holm. Holm grins and pulls it on. It’s tight, straining against his shoulders and arms deliciously. 

“Thanks,” Holm says, grinning. “Fits perfectly.”

“Asshole,” Victor says, climbing back into bed, but he’s smiling. 

So him and Holm are cool. They’ll shoot the shit before going to bed, usually about whatever’s on TV or hockey. Hockey is a great subject to fall back on. It’s good, they’re sort of friends and Victor occasionally thinks about him jerking off. 

Victor should probably skip post win drinks, because that’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Well, that and Fitzy. But he’s not enough of a sad sack to sit alone in his room while everyone else celebrates. The next day is a travel day, it’s the perfect night to get a couple drinks with the boys.

The bar is pretty chill, which is understandable for a Thursday night. They’ve taken over a corner of the bar, everyone piled into booths. Victor doesn’t know how he found himself sandwiched between Holm and Connie, but he isn’t complaining. Sure, they both dwarf him, but at least they aren’t loud assholes.

Of course, the loudest of assholes walks over then, carrying a tray of shots and a shit eating grin. 

“Shots for the rookies!” Fitzy says.

“We aren’t rookies,” Connie says.

“I meant Homer, but just for that you’re getting two.”

Connie starts to protest and then of course Roman leans over from the other booth to ask what’s wrong. Victor doesn’t want to witness more of that particular drama, so he turns to Holm and hands him a shot, taking one for himself. He’s already loose after a few beers, and shots sound great, even if it’s just to numb him to the way Connie is bright red as he talks to Roman. He’s a good friend, he’ll listen as Connie gushes about Roman, but he doesn’t want to have to watch it too. 

Holm dutifully taps his shot glass against Victor’s before throwing it back with ease. Victor swallows through the burn and reaches for another.

Holm raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“We’re celebrating,” Victor says.

“There are still three more games left in the road trip. It feels a little early to be celebrating.”

“We beat the Caps in their own home, you always gotta celebrate that,” Victor says, grinning. “And you had a multi point night! Two points means two shots.”

“What’s your excuse?”

Victor looks over to where Connie is making cow eyes at Roman, while Harry glares at them both. God, his rookie class is embarrassing. 

“Right,” Holm says, tossing back the shot. He winces this time. “What did Fitzy get? That’s strong.”

Victor is too busy making a disgusted face to answer. He washes the sickly sweet taste down with beer. “That shit is nasty, and I once blacked out on fireball.”

“Fireball?” Holm asks, sounding intrigued.

“Oh my god dude, next time we’re up north I’m getting a bottle. I can’t even smell the stuff without gagging, but it’s awesome.”

Holm laughs, and Victor realizes he likes the sound of it. It’s a nice laugh, not loud and obnoxious but deep, and real. 

He sees that Connie is busy twisted around the back of the booth talking to Roman, so he reaches for his shots too, downing one, then the other. He knows Connie gets nervous about what he says around Roman, and that he’s wary of drinking around him lest he say something he’ll regret.

Victor settles into his seat as Roman says something to get Holm’s attention. He feels nice, floaty and light in a way he knows can tip into sloppy if he keeps going. The way they’re crammed into the booth, Holm is a solid line of warmth against him, both of them pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee. It’s grounding. 

He wonders what would happen if he put a hand on Holm’s thigh. Like, by accident. Like he was engrossed in talking to Connie that he put his hand down on the wrong thigh. How would Holm react? 

Victor catches himself, curling his hands into fists. Fuck. What the fuck was in those shots? Maybe it was the beers he’d had before. God, he needs to get a grip on himself. 

“I’m going to head back,” he says, shoving at Connie. It’d be faster to get Holm to move, but that’s the opposite of what Victor wants. Smitty, who’s beside Connie, grumbles as he moves, but he does it, and Connie follows.

“Are you alright?” Connie asks.

“I’m fine,” he says, forcing a smile. “Just a headache. Probably just need some sleep.”

“I’ll come too,” Holm says, standing up.

“No, stay. Celebrate, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay,” Holm says. “I’m tired too, it’s probably better if I head back now.”

Victor wants to protest, wants to make him stay so he can go back to their room and jerk off to the fantasy of big strong blond men in peace. But he can’t do that without being weird about it, without making it obvious about the fixation he has on his road roommate, so he relents. 

They say their goodbyes, the chirps about being lightweights expected. By the time they get outside Victor has gathered his wits enough that he’ll be able to make it back to the room without saying something stupid. Probably.

“Let’s walk?” Holm suggests. “It’s not too cold, and the hotel is close.”

“Sure.” Maybe the cold will sober him up a bit.

Of course two minutes in, he stumbles and almost falls, catching himself at the last minute. Maybe taking Connie’s shots for him hadn’t been the best idea.

“Okay,” Holm says, wrapping an enormous arm around his waist.

“What the fuck dude,” Victor says, trying to get away. Key word being trying, because the dude is strong.

“If you crack your head open on the sidewalk, Coach is going to kill me.”

Victor rolls his eyes, but gives in. “He wouldn’t kill you. We need your depth.”

Holm huffs a laugh. It’s not loud, but Victor can feel the way his shoulders shift. “Fine, he wouldn’t kill me, but he’d scratch me.”

“You’re right, that’s worse.”

Holm huffs another laugh and Victor thinks they’ll be okay. He can make it.

The hotel really isn’t far. Holm dutifully supports him as they make it through the lobby and into the elevator. Victor is just running his mouth, saying dumb shit that makes Holm do those little laughs that Victor didn’t even know about until he was plastered against his side. It’s a nice side to be plastered against, so who cares if maybe he stumbles accidentally on purpose a couple times? 

Holm doesn’t even let him go when they get to their door, manages to pull out his key card one handed. He swears under his breath as he tries to fit it into the slot.

“It’s not going in.”

“That’s what she said,” Victor says automatically.

Holm pauses, looking at him. There’s a moment of silence before he bursts out laughing. The card falls to the floor and Victor’s laughing too, the kind of breathless laughter that makes his stomach hurt.

Holm is bent over, and he tips himself onto the wall, pulling Victor with him. He must not be expecting the extra weight, because he stumbles, back pressed flat against the wall, and Victor finds himself pressed up against him.

They’re both still giggling. Victor looks up and sees the tears gathered in the corners of Holm’s eyes. He’s looking at Victor with warmth and fondness and Victor thinks fuck it.

“Don’t punch me,” Victor says, before leaning in and carefully pressing their lips together.

Holm is frozen, and after a moment Victor pulls away, heart racing and stomach heavy with dread. Then Holm is shifting, he puts his hand on the back of Victor’s neck as he pulls him in. Victor is intensely aware of the hand _still_ wrapped around his waist, solid and warm as Holm kisses him. Then Holm deepens the kiss, going from chaste and almost sweet to wet and dirty. Victor moans, unexpectedly loud in the empty hallway, and they both freeze.

They’re both panting, and Victor can feel Holm half hard against his hip. 

“Inside?” Victor asks.

“Inside.”

Victor takes a step back and Holm bends over, reaching for the key. Victor doesn’t bother hiding how much he enjoys the view.

 

So now, apparently hooking up is something he does with Jonas (he’s had the guy’s dick in his mouth, he can call him by his first name).

Victor fully intends for it to be a one time thing, except then Jonas walks out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist, damp and gorgeous. Victor has no choice but to climb him like a tree. In the end, Jonas has to take another shower, but Victor joins him and no one is complaining. 

He doesn’t know exactly how it goes from an on-the-road thing to him inviting Jonas over to watch the Pacers game with him. He’s minding his own damn business, pulling off his gear after practice when he hears someone mention the Pacers and his interest is immediately caught.

“...won against the Pacers last night, it was sick. I think the Raptors are going for another championship this year.”

“Hey Fitzy,” Victor calls out from across the room. “Your boyfriend know you’re sucking those refs’ dicks? ‘Cause that’s the only reason they’d favour you dinosaur fucks so much.”

Fitzy just laughs. “Didn’t have to, not when the Pacers always play like shit.

“Well,” Jonas says, and Victor turns on him. “I watched a game with Fitzy last week and the Raptors looked pretty good.”

Victor glares at Fitzy, “Of course you try to turn him with your fucking Canadian basketball.”

“Basketball was invented by a Canadian,” Fitzy says haughtily.

“Get back to me when there’s more than one team for the entire country and we can talk.” He turns to Jonas. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Yes?”

“Good. You’re coming to my place and I’ll show you what a real basketball game looks like.”

“Okay?”

Satisfied, Victor finishes shucking off his gear. It’s not until he’s in the shower that he realizes he’s invited Jonas over to his house. 

Fucking Fitzy.

 

He doesn’t know whether he should make a big deal out of this. On the one hand, it’s just a buddy coming over to watch the game, just guys being dudes. On the other hand, he’s intimately familiar with how this particular dude looks like when he comes, so.

He settles on tidying up his apartment, once again intensely grateful that he doesn’t have a roommate. Connie and Val had roomed together last season, and at the time Connie had asked if he’d wanted to get a three bedroom place with them, but Victor has always valued having his own space. Playing hockey, it’s a given that everyone is all up in each other’s business, and he doesn’t _dis_ like it, but at a certain point Victor needs space that’s just his. Maybe it comes from being an only child, but after spending an entire road trip basically on top of each other, it’s nice to be alone for an evening. 

Jonas shows up holding a six pack of beer, wearing sweats and a hoodie. He looks unfairly good, but casual. 

It takes half the first quarter and a beer for Victor to relax. Jonas is sitting on the other end of the sofa, looking intently at the screen. He doesn’t look confused, hasn’t asked any questions yet, so Victor figures Fitzy must have explained at least the basics to him. It’s not like basketball is a hard sport to understand.

They’re playing the Nets, so it’s not like Victor needs to pay attention, it’s almost guaranteed that his boys are going to pull off a W. So he lets himself be distracted, eyes straying every few minutes, to the way Jonas is lounging, casually taking up space, comfortable in a way that makes Victor’s heart beat faster. 

Victor mentally shake himself and focuses on the TV. The Nets are getting schooled, the already weak team struggling with their star point guard out with an injury. Matheson sinks a three and Victor grins and takes a sip of his beer. The two points from this win will bring them up in the conference, taking second place from the Raptors. 

“I’m going to get another beer,” Jonas says, pulling him from his thoughts on how best to rub this in Fitzy’s face. “You want one?”

“It’s okay,” Victor says, standing up. “I can get it.”

Jonas shoves him. “It’s fine, I remember where the kitchen is.”

He’s gone before Victor can say anything. Victor sits back down, watches as the Nets get a basket, though it’s not going to do them much good. Jonas comes back with two bottles, handing one to him before sitting. Victor can’t help but notice that this time, Jonas has settled much closer to him, sprawled out so his thigh is barely an inch away from Victor’s. 

Jonas doesn’t say anything about it, just asks a question about team fouls, so Victor rolls with it too.

They’re well into the second quarter when Victor shifts, their thighs finally making contact. A few moments later Jonas moves too, and soon Victor is practically leaning on Jonas, their sides pressed together. Neither of them says anything about it, their conversation staying focused on the game.

It’s not until halftime that Jonas, the dork that he is, pulls the fucking yawn-and-stretch, laying his arm along the back of the sofa, basically putting his arm around Victor.

“You fucker!” Victor crows, turning to glare at him. Except they’re sitting so close he has to steady himself by placing a bracing hand on Jonas’ chest. Jonas’ very firm, warm chest that he’d basically been lying on a moment ago.

“What?” Jonas asks, with the gall to look innocent. 

“You totally came here to get laid, didn’t you?”

“You invited me, Vic.”

“I can’t believe you’re violating the sanctity of bro basketball time.”

Jonas raises his eyebrows. “So you’re saying you don’t want me to suck your dick?”

Victor pauses. “Well.”

“I wouldn’t want to disrespect “bro basketball time”” Jonas says, using air quotes like the asshole he secretly is.

“Shut up and take off my pants.”

Victor ignores that Jonas is laughing at him, more concerned with pulling him down and kissing him. 

 

It becomes a thing. Victor doesn’t know how it becomes a thing, but it does. Whenever there’s a Pacers game and they themselves don’t have a game to play, Jonas will follow him home after practice and bully him into making food, lounging around his apartment like he has a right to be there. Victor isn’t complaining, because he gets sex and he makes sure Jonas isn’t a Raptors fan, so it’s a win for everyone. 

He doesn’t realize how weird it is until Connie points it out. He doesn’t know that Victor’s boning Jonas, but he does mention that they haven’t hung out in a while.

Except because it’s Connie, he adds quietly, “I miss you.”

Victor wants to melt, and also protect Connie from any and all harm. But he only knows how to speak asshole, so he says, “You seem pretty preoccupied, what with Roman and Harry. Looks like my advice worked.”

Connie goes bright red. “Shut up.”

“Hey, no judgment. You do you, Con. And well, Roman and Harry are doing you too, I guess.”

Connie somehow gets even redder. “It’s not like that. It’s _dating_.”

“So you’re not…” 

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Connie mumbles.

Victor’s still cackling when Harry walks into the locker room, scowling like they had all personally insulted his mother. 

“Get it stud.”

Connie huffs. “Wow, I don’t know why I missed you.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll let it go. Come over Friday night, we can eat pizza and feel guilty about breaking out diet plans together. Friendship.”

“It has to have at least two vegetables on it.”

“Fine,” Victor says. Tomato sauce totally counts as a vegetable.

Harry joins them then, his scowl dropping as soon as Connie sunnily wishes him a good morning. Victor refrains from rolling his eyes, for Connie’s sake.

It’s not until they’re getting on the ice that he remembers that there’s a Pacers game on Friday night. He had never really discussed Jonas coming over, not after that first time. Victor doesn’t want to say anything now, scared that it’ll wreck the fragile balance of whatever they have going on. 

But it’s not like he can have both Connie and Jonas over, so before practice actually starts, he pulls Jonas aside. 

“Connie is coming over on Friday,” he says, careful to keep his voice low.

“Okay?”

Victor wants to roll his eyes. Instead, he casually leans against the boards, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “So you can’t come over.”

He glances up to see if Jonas looks mad, but he looks amused more than anything. “Why not?”

Victor really doesn’t want to spell it all out where anyone can hear, so instead he says, “Because me and Connie need bro time.”

Jonas’ eyebrows go up. “I didn’t know you and Connie did, ah, ‘bro basketball time.’”

It takes a moment for it to process, but when it does Victor is _horrified_. 

“What? No!” he yells, of course making everyone else on the ice look over at them, completely ruining all his attempts to keep this conversation on the DL.

Jonas is too busy falling over himself laughing to care. 

“Gross!” Victor yells, shoving Jonas. He tries to give him a face wash, but Jonas fends him off with ease.. “You fucker, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Maybe,” Jonas says, still laughing. “Looks like everyone on the team has a crush on Connie now.”

Roman, who had come over to see what the commotion was about just in time to hear Jonas’ comment, turns bright red. “You alright boys?”

“We’re good,” Jonas says, despite the fact that Victor is still unsuccessfully trying to shove him.

“Good. Coach is about to start, better come over.”

They skate over to where the rest of the team gathered. Victor leans towards Jonas, keeping his voice low. “See if I ever suck your dick again.”

Jonas just gives him a sceptical look before pulling ahead. Which, fair. 

 

Connie comes over with a tupperware full of bean salad, because of course he does. He’d make fun of him for how closely he follows the diet plan, but it’s obviously been working for him. Victor counters by ordering three types of meat on the pizza. It’s all about balance.

The game starts and Victor feels like he can’t settle. It takes a while for him to realize what it is. It feels weird, watching the game without Jonas.

He’s not knocking Connie, because Connie’s great. But he keeps waiting for Jonas to say something, to ask a question or what’s become more and more frequent, chirp the Pacers just to rile Victor up. He misses the way Jonas drapes himself on the couch, taking up the entire thing. Victor always makes a show of complaining but he likes the excuse to be tucked up close to Jonas, likes the way he can rest his head against Jonas’ shoulder during breaks, likes the way Jonas will absently run his fingers through his hair. 

Victor’s been purposely ignoring the way Jonas has been carefully carving a space for himself in his life, but he suddenly doesn’t want there to be an empty space left in his wake. 

“Vic?” Connie says, pulling him from his thoughts.

“What?”

“I asked, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” Victor lies.

Connie looks skeptical. “It’s halftime and you were still staring at the TV.”

“So? Maybe I was just interested in,” Victor pauses, glancing at the TV again. “A Papa John’s commercial?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m good, just thinking.”

Connie doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it drop. 

Victor wishes it was that easy for him.

 

The problem with realizing he has feelings for Jonas, or feelings that go beyond he’s-hot-we-should-fuck, is that there is zero way of knowing if Jonas feels the same way. He’s grown up around guys that will suck a dick and say they’re straight in the same breath. Victor is fairly certain that Jonas is gay, or at least gay adjacent, but he’s had an unpleasant experience or two with guys who are okay with sex but will no homo their way out if there’s any hint of emotions. 

When you’re on a team it’s inevitable that you develop close bonds, hell, it’s encouraged. They lead lives that push them to their physical and mental limits, it’s only through connecting with other people going through the same thing that you can do that day in day out for years without going crazy. You’re spending hours on end with these people, when you’re emotionally vulnerable; you share your highest highs and lowest lows. 

There’s a high chance that there’s going to be some blurred lines, that things might be read the wrong way. Victor has been careful all this time, to keep his love life outside the locker room. That’s not to say he hasn’t traded handies with his road roommate in juniors, that’s basically a rite of passage, but the few relationships he’s been in have been completely outside of hockey. Sure, you have Riley and Lapointe who paved the way for gay hockey players for the rest of time, or whatever, but staring down the practicalities of a relationship with a teammate, Victor can’t see it ending in anything but disaster. 

Of course, this well thought out argument is completely forgotten the next time he sees Jonas. It’s not even that he’s hot like burning (though to be clear, he is like, the sun levels of hot), it’s other stuff too. Like the way he has this weirdly soft voice, considering he’s huge. On the ice, sure, he yells like the rest of them, but off the ice, he’s almost soft spoken, if something so delicate could be applied to a hockey player. When he talks, it’s just a few shades too soft, so you find yourself leaning in, like you’re pulled in by his gravity. 

Another thing is how comfortable he is when he’s with Victor. Victor hadn’t noticed it for a while, how tightly wound he can be when they’re with the team. He’s always alert, always paying attention, taking his time with his words, each one careful and precise. When it’s just them, Jonas lets himself be loose, his accent lilting as he stumbles over words here and there, completely unselfconscious. 

It all comes to a head on a road trip, because of course it does.

They squeak out an overtime win in Colorado, breaking a four game losing streak, and apparently that’s a call for celebration. Victor get its, it’s a weight off everyone’s shoulders, the team finally clicking again after a month of missed passes and fanned shots and disappointing losses. But it’s been an exhausting, if short trip; he’d rather curl up in his room with Jonas and find a mindless movie to fall asleep to. He’s fully intending to do that, until Connie asks him to come along.

He’s had a front row seat to the hidden drama that’s been unfolding in the locker room. Most of the guys are oblivious, the lucky bastards, because despite everything, Connie, Harry, and Roman have managed to keep it at home. But Connie’s kept Victor well informed, so Victor knows he needs to tag along to run interference.

Jonas gives him a look when he says he’s going out, but when Victor shows up at the bar with Connie, Jonas is there with a pint of Victor’s favourite beer and an empty spot beside him in the booth.

“Thanks,” Victor says, squeezing his knee under the table. “I really need this.”

“You’re okay after that hit in the third period? It looked bad.”

“It mostly just rattled me. I’m gonna have a nasty bruise on my shoulder, but other than that I’ll be fine.”

“It looked bad,” Jonas says again.

Before Victor can respond, Connie joins them. Jonas raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to take a sip of his beer. Victor can practically feel Roman and Harry watching them, or more specifically, watching Connie.

“You good Con?” Victor asks.

“I’m great,” he says, obviously lying. 

Before Victor can call him out on it, Fitzy comes over and takes the vacant seat beside Connie. “Please tell me you’re fixing whatever is wrong. Roman’s being unbearable.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Connie says with a smile that’s more a grimace.

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Luckily, Fitzy drops it at that. Unluckily, he turns to Jonas. “So, that girl at the bar has been eyeing you since you walked in.”

Victor can’t help but look, and sure enough there’s a girl that’s looking over at their table, or more specifically, at Jonas, a familiar appraising look in her eyes. Fuck.

Jonas, the fucker, laughs. “Thanks Fitzy, but I’m seeing someone.”

It takes a moment for the words to process, but when they do Victor feels like he can’t breathe. It’s not that they’d talked about being exclusive or anything, but Victor had thought-

God, he was an idiot.

“I don’t feel good,” Victor says, standing up and cutting off whatever Fitzy had been saying, he doesn’t know, he’d stopped listening when Jonas had-

Fuck.

“Are you okay?” Connie asks, worried. 

“Uh, yeah. Headache, you know?”

Jonas has the gall to look concerned. “You said that hit wasn’t bad, but do you think it could be-”

“No,” Victor cuts him off. “Just, uh, tired.”

“Do you want me to come-”

“No! I mean, stay. Celebrate.” Victor can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, he can tell from the look Jonas gives him. 

He steps out of the bar and the cold helps clear his head a little, enough so he can push down the confusing tangle of emotions that are threatening to overtake him. He’s just ordered his Uber when the bar door opens and Jonas walks out.

“Vic, hey, are you okay?”

“Fuck you,” Victor says, before he can stop himself.

“What?”

“Can we not do this here, in front of people?”

“Do what?” Jonas asks.

“Look, the Uber is three minutes away. Just wait until we get back to the hotel.”

The ride back is tense, Victor doing his best to ignore Jonas. He wants to ignore everything, he wants to forget that this night even happened, he wants to go back to how everything was an hour ago.

“Are you mad that I told Fitzy we’re dating?” Jonas asks as soon as they get in the room.

That brings Victor up short, his hands stilling on his jacket buttons. “What?”

“I know we never talked about it, but I’m at your house four times a week and-”

“Wait, we’re dating?”

“Um. Kind of?”

“So the person you told Fitzy you’re seeing. That’s me?”

“Yeah,” Jonas says, as if it’s obvious.

“I thought you meant someone else,” Victor says dumbly.

Jonas, the fucker, bursts out laughing. “What? That’s why you were mad?”

“Shut up,” Victor says, shoving him, but he can’t help but smile at the way he’s snorting.

“You think I can spend half my nights at your house and find time in my life for another boyfriend?”

“You never asked me, asshole,” Victor says, his glare ruined because he can’t stop smiling.

“Victor Kjeldsen,” Jonas says solemnly, taking one of Victor’s hands in both of his and bringing it to his chest. “Will you do me the honour-”

Victor doesn’t let him finish, just tackles him onto the bed and gives him a noogie, mussing his hair in the way he knows Jonas hates. Jonas wrestles him easily, flipping them so he’s on top, pressed together from chest to knee.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Victor says, breathless. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore.”

“Liar,” Jonas says.

Instead of arguing, Victor just kisses his stupid, smug face.


	2. epilogue

It’s their first Sunday off in a really long time. Victor had had plans for sex, except he’d woken up to Jonas rubbing against him, and he’d been too lazy to do anything fancier than reaching into his boxers and jerking him off. Jonas had just smiled sleepily at him and handed him a washcloth.

Curling up on the sofa is nice too, cocooned in a million blankets that Jonas brings over because he insists Victor keeps the house too cold. Victor is full from breakfast, and warm from the blankets and Jonas wrapped around him. They’re watching a Danish soap, with the English subtitles on for Victor’s sake.

“So wait, are they going to get married?”

Jonas laughs. “No, she’s his daughter.”

“Gross. So who is she marrying?”

“She’s not marrying anyone, she’s the widow.”

Victor sighs. “This is too complicated.”

“It’s so much easier to understand than Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Grey’s Anatomy is in a language I understand.”

Jonas rolls his eyes.

“You’re great at English,” Victor says. “And you totally had a crush on McDreamy, so don’t even front.”

“If you paid attention, maybe you’d pick up some Danish.”

“I can pick up Danish alright,” Victor says, waggling his eyebrows.

Jonas groans and laughs. “You’re terrible.”

“You love me,” Victor says, without thinking. 

“Yeah, I do. Don’t know why though.”

Jonas is still laughing, but Victor is frozen.

“Fine,” Jonas says, sighing dramatically. “We can watch something else.”

Sounds like a good idea, would be a good thing to say. “You love me?” Victor says instead.

Jonas looks at him, confused, as if he’s the one being weird. “Uh, yeah.”

“What?”

Jonas says something in Danish. 

“What?” Victor says, confused. It sounds familiar, 

“That means I love you. I’ve been saying it for a while.”

Much later, Victor would realize that it sounded a lot like what his grandma would say to him whenever he visited. So really, the blame for all this lies on his parents for not bringing him to see his grandma more often growing up. They also hadn’t encouraged him to learn his ancestral language, so it’s doubly their fault. 

Of course, instead of freaking out- a totally valid and normal reaction -Jonas is still laughing. 

It’s getting kind of annoying.

“Stop,” Victor says, dangerously close to a whine. “It’s not my fault you have a dumb language.”

“Your grandma is Danish, so you’re technically Danish too, dumbass.”

“Danish ancestry is different than being Danish, _dumbass_.”

“Well, maybe Denmark should be glad you’re not Danish then.”

“Wow, rude. I thought you loved me.”

“I love you despite being a dumbass.”

“You love me _because_ I’m a dumbass.”

Jonas just sighs loudly, pulling Victor in close. “What does that say about my taste?”

“It’s exquisite,” Victor says primly. “Best fucking taste in all of Denmark.”

“I’m going to give you so much shit for this.”

“I know”

“Does this mean I get to keep watching my show?”

Victor sighs. “Fine.”

Jonas grins and presses a kiss to his cheek before unpausing the show.

They’re halfway through the next episode before Victor says, “I love you too.” He’s looking straight ahead at the screen, eyes fixed on the TV.

“I know.”

(That night, Victor sits straight up in bed and shakes Jonas awake. “You motherfucker, you Han Solo’d me!”)

**Author's Note:**

> so despite this pairing being jossed with every update, I'm still very fond of them, so watch this space for some fun ficlets.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] it's a love story (baby just say yes)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107140) by [yourenotserious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourenotserious/pseuds/yourenotserious)




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